African woman
Mother of civilization.
Oh beautiful woman,
Thou are beyond description.

African woman
Queen of the people of Mamba.
Jambo to all those in heaven
Bless you too my dear mama.

African woman
Royal Nubian Queen.
The backbone of her man
You'll do anything to help him win.

Single Black woman
Made of broken pieces
You're the breadwinner,Superwoman.
You're the symbol of strength in all places.

African woman
Daughter of Eve's.
Thou are God's true specimen,
And the apple of his eyes.

Black woman
Daughter of Africa.
Blueprint of a **** woman,
Dark hue of coffee arabica.

African woman
Mother of humanity
Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman,
Mama Africa's bounty.

African woman
My Mandingo bride.
First woman of Africa's Eden
Center of God's black tribe.

Nigerian woman
My Yoruba Queen.
Envied by the women of Oman,
Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream!

Warrior woman,
Queen of Wakanda.
Come and flip your wand,
Find the soul of Sarafina.

Curvy woman
In your womb lies Africa's future.
My Lormah woman
Oyobuays marvels at your structure.

Beautiful woman,
Perpetual envy of the silicon woman.
Pride of the Black man,
The essence of a real woman.

Indigo Woman
Lillies of the African plains.
Thou are Eve of the African Eden,
Best of the portraits that nature paints.

Voluptous woman,
Full, thick natural lips.
Real assert of the Black woman,
Nature gets aroused by your hips.

Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman,
Africa's first female president.
A Liberian woman,
Loved and revered wherever she went.

Smile ,Gambian woman,
You're daughter of Sarakunda.
Roots of the Black American woman,
Captives of the kanda Bolinga.

South African woman
Mariam Makeba
Sang for freedom and fought like a man
You were truly Soweto's finest Deva.

Dark ebony woman,
You are red, yellow and green.
Hanmatan wind stops at your command,
Born to slay and be seen.

African woman
Thou are the only reason
God put Adam in a coma.
Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season.

African woman,
Under your cleavage, the Nile flows
And between your fingers, golden threads are woven,
You are the reason Beyonce glows.

Harriet Tubman, brave woman
Smuggled slaves underground.
She was a freed Black slave woman,
Who avowed to leave no soul behind.

Creative woman
Maya Angelou, gifted poetess.
Famous writer and a Black woman
Will be remembered for her poetic prowess.

Native African woman,
Africa's limestone and cement.
A mother, a wife, virtuous woman,
Lioness and the spine of the continent.

Liberian woman
Roots of my poetry, you gave me life
You are every woman.
Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife.



#IvanBrookspoetry©
13/8/2018

I speak the language of God
I speak Alleluyah and Amen!
I speak a perfect spoken word,
The language of poets and gifted men.

I speak fluent Norwegian
The language of the Norsk.
I was born a Liberian.
That took time and hard work.

I speak sound French
The language of French Guinea.
I speak it whenever I pray in church,
God blessed me there as a refugee.

I speak the English Language,
The universal language of business.
Wall Street used it to do damage,
Damages that caused the financial crisis.

I speak the hustle language,
The one adopted by hustlers.
This language I have used to engage,
All my challenges and troubles.

I speak a special creative language
The one spoken by writers and poets.
This language is so unique,
That it has produced many laureates.


#IvanBrooksPoetry©
1/8/2018

Nobody tells a prophet to shut up,neither a rooster to stop crowing.
It's like stopping a happy person from
Laughing.

Nobody says to the sun" stop shinning!"
Neither the wind "stop blowing!"
It's like stopping a bird from flying.

Nobody says to time "stop moving!"
All you can do is stop yours on the wristwatch.
And you know what that means;
You will only stall and fall behind, left behind by time and the rest of human civilization.

Similarity, nobody can say to a poet "shut up and stop writing poetry and exuding spoken word!".

Who's going to write about truth and introspection?
Who's going to write stories that'll captivate our imaginations?

Who's going to spin odes in a way that the world will question a poet's source of inspiration?

Who's going to make love letters speak another language?
Who's going to write tragic stories and make it look unique?

Who's going to give wings to dead letters?
Who's going to write for speech-impaired lovers?

Who's going to give light to blind words and afix them with wings?
Who's going to guide them thru things?

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
01/8/2018

Today is a messenger from God
Sent to us in fulfillment of his word.
Treat it like a precious gem.
It's a special day to them
Who values the blessings it brings
Not only the useless material things.
Today is also another day
Just like yesterday.
It began this morning
And will end this evening.
Accidents will happen,
Taking the lives of many men.
Many people will cry,
And many more will try
To be brave and strong
Even when all goes wrong.

Today is another day
To me,it's like any other day.
Happy children will play,
And some people will pray.
For many,it will be their last,
And for young babies, their very first.
Few people will take a bath,
And many happy folks will laugh.
Many good books will be read,
And hungry Stomachs will be fed.
The dead among us will be buried
And many couples will get married.
Others will pray to God above
To send them someone to love.
Yes or no, it's up to God
To honor his divine word.
You see,at the end of the day,
It's He who has the final say.
So remember to give him praise,
For today was sent by his grace.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
30/7/2018

When a published poet dies,
A shooting star falls.
The universe cries
And rainbows hugs waterfalls.

When an old poet dies,
A new poet is born.
Nature lights up a million fireflies,
And a ship gives a tot on its horn.

When a young poet dies,
A Crack appears in a crystal ball.
A Fountain pen dries,
And a sad poem appears on a wall.

When an old poetess dies,
For a while the wind will cease.
Petals will fall from Lillies,
And disappear without a trace.

When a great poetess dies,
Fallen poets observe silence.
The men adorn black bow ties,
And the ladies dress in elegance.

When any poet dies,
The world loses a bright mind.
Shakespeare appears across the skies,
Waving to those of us left behind.

When a poor poet dies,
Nothing at all happens.
The world goes about its duties
He goes on to rest with other legends.


#IvanBrooksPoetry
29/7/2018

Smile every day like you have it all
Smile even when big trouble calls.
Put on your Sunday's best, have a ball,
Smile at life and scale trouble's walls.

Smile through your times of trials,
Adorn your armor and stand very tall.
Smile even when thick darkness falls,
It's the light that illuminates the hall.

A Smile doesn't mean you have it all
It's just a sign that you are contented.
Smile with people, say come on Y'all,
Show sadness we're not yet defeated.

Smile even though you lost everything
Yet smile like you haven't lost a thing.
Do it each morning and every evening,
Smile to show that life is worth living.

Smile through your troubles
Don't let the devil see your tears.
A smile is the antidotes against hurdles
And the mosquito in the devil's ears.

  #IvanBrooksPoetry©
07/26/2018

The kitten moved very slowly
She was a motherless lost kitten.
Again and again,she fumbled blindly,
Like everything was hidden.
She searched everywhere
And cried From dawn to dusk
But her mother was nowhere!
She dug into the earth's crust,
And tried to climb the olive tree,
She scaled the neighbor's wall
And wondered where could mom be.
So she began the desperate call;
"Mother,mother,where at thou?
Are you somewhere looking for me,
Are you trying but don't know how?
Mother,you I search but I can't see,
From me the world is hidden!
Why don't I see anything at all?
Mama,mama help for I haven't eaten!"

#IvanBrooksPoetry
7/22/2018

How can the world find
Everlasting peace for mankind?
Some think we can achieve this
By using our muscles and fists
Nations have tried using bombs
That billows like mushrooms,
Obliterating everything in its path
And giving the earth an atomic bath.
What has all of this brought,
What lessons has war taught?
If peace hasn't been realized
It's because love hasn't been exercised.

The world can't move
Without the power of love.
So let's be kind to one another,
And be our brothers keeper.
I don't care if it happens today
Or tomorrow or someday,
The world needs peace
And a dose of God's grace.
Not wars,it brings destruction.
Not any kind of confussion,
For it causes perpetual division.

For peace we saw the dissolution of the League Of Nations,
And the formation of the United Nations.
Yet still the world can't find a solution
To all the deaths and destruction.
If to our issues we can't find the resolutions ,
What kind of world will we leave our future generations?

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/22/2018

I think Poetry found me very early,
From somewhere in mama's womb.
Hooked to her umbilical cord firmly.
I heard something like a tiny bomb.
It was the sound of the talking drum,
Heralding the arrival of another grio.
So with gratitude, I said thanks mom,
And to the world, I said a very big hello.
Of course, I used the language of babies,
I cried and breathed in my very first air.
This was my first sight of the ladies
They smiled as they washed my hair.

My very first poem was a sad prayer.
It was written when I was very hungry
I was hopeless, I had only one dollar,
And no real prospect of ever making it.
So I took out my old used notepad,
UnfortunateIy, I had no pen to write with.
I wrote with a charcoal found in the yard,
And I wrote many long lines on my wall.
I wrote everything I had to tell God
Sadly, I couldn't write them all.
I cried in anguish to the Lord,
Asking If He had forgotten me.
Of Course, I got no immediate answer,
But years later my answer came.
It came in the form of a letter.
Addressed to me, ten years later
It came later but it felt better,
Instantly my struggle was all over!

The first love letter I wrote was poetry,
It was childish, unstructured and ugly.
It was written to a girl, she was pretty,
She read it and smiled, I wasn't so lucky.
Crushed, yet I pretended to be strong
I walked away but ran all the way home.
I cried in anguish and wrote a love song.
The lines were very sad, I felt all alone.
But I knew it was my first real rejection.
So I tried writing again, this time to me.
I was very focused, I was on a mission.
Finally, it finished and I wrote my name.
Unfortunately, the answer was the same,
There and then I knew I had no game,
So I reconciled and just took the blame.
Fast forward,and many years later,
I found the subject of my love letter.
I wrote a note to her on messenger.
I was optimistic because I wrote better.
I was emboldened by my poetic power.
Once again,the reply came to me later,
This time it was a resounding yes!
It felt so wonderful, thanks to poetry
And the universe I didn't make a mess.

  #IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/22/2018

Love is a blind *****
And a wicked witch.
She's like a bill collector
And a heartbreaker.

Love is a light
Sometimes she's bright,
Sometimes she's dangerous
And very mysterious.

Love is contentious
Like a strange virus,
She kills at times
At times, she saves.

What's this phenomenon
That moves like the moon?
Love eludes some people
And for her, some will struggle.

To some, she's a white dove
Sent for them from above.
To those not lucky like us,
Love is just like a bad curse.

Love is the bedrock of life
Yet she hurts like a knife.
To few, she works like a lawn mower
And too few she's a lawn blower.

Love to some is like a quick shower
In no time it's all over.
The mystery of love
Is the tale of the black dove.

Love's seed was planted in Heaven
And blossomed in the garden of Eden
A long time ago on this earth,
It was the caveat for Romeo's death.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/22/2018

Every poet has something to say.
Be it to himself or to the world,
Be it during the night or day,
Be it via a poem or spoken word.
The world is just too busy,
Or its people are often too lazy.
Either to acknowledge or listen
or pretend to humbly care.
This leaves some of them broken.
The sheer rejection some can't bare,
So they keep quiet until they die
Robbing themselves of a great chance
To hear from the deep and smile.
A chance to sleep with a grimace
Courtesy of a very beautiful poetry
Written to the world by a humble poet
Somewhere in a faraway country,
Delivering introspection, hoping for the best.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
12/7/2018

No hands
no problem.
no limits
no merits.

No money
No problem.
no inheritance,
No case.

No connection
no stress.
With benediction
I'll make progress.


No friends
No problem
With my hands
I'll call them.

No Wealth
No problem
With good health
I'm a complete man.


#IvanBrooksPoetry©
      2/7/2018

Why is Love considered blind
But it's actions are always kind?
Why does it sweep us off our feet,
Is it because it's powerful and deep?
Why do others think it's contentious
And some say it's even dangerous?
They say Love surpasses everything
Except for one very important thing.
That love is not greater than God,
For the good book says He's our Lord.
So in essence, God's agape love
Is greatest because it comes from above!

  #IvanBrooksPoetry©
15/6/2018

There better not be an issue with race in Heaven.
And there better not be a bully,
If I find one there, I'll become his unsafe haven.
The battle between he and I will be ugly.

There better not be a problem with gossips.
If there ever be, let it be about God's glory.
Or about how Angel Micheal fellowships,
In a manner that's pure and holy.

There better not be a hater up in Heaven.
If I find one, we'll surely fight.
I'll make sure the fight ends at eleven.
For the saints begins prayers at midnight.

If any of these things happen,
I'll rather burn in hell!
Hence God knows hell isn't good for his children,
He won't allow sin around there as you can tell.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
14/6/2018

I have been homeless
But never hopeless.
I have been jobless
But not faithless.
I have been penniless
But happy nevertheless.

I have been laughed at
But have never cared about that.
I have been downplayed
All I did was prayed.
I have been talked about,
Thrown out,
And beaten up...
Yet have never given up!

My home has been taken
But I have never been shaken.
When my possessions were removed,
I remained resolute and not moved.
I have been disenfranchised
Ostracized
And immobilized...
Yet I remained unfazed!

I have been used
And falsely accused.
I have been seriously abused,
And my ego bruised.
Though my suffering has been long,
Yet I have remained strong.
I have been called all sorts of names,
And unjustly pinned with blames...
Like the mighty baobab tree,
I haven't been moved as you can see.


#IvanBrooksPoetry©
12/6/2018

Be like water,
be formless.
Be like a lion,
be fearless.
Be like the universe,
be limitless.
Be like Bluetooth,
Be wireless.
Be mysterious,
leave people clueless.
Be like a guard dog,
be restless.
Be like a machine,
be tireless.
Be a true hustler,
be relentless.
Be a fantastic poet,
leave your readers speechless.

IB-Poetry©️
12/6/2018

Rejoice in your own struggles
There's a lesson in everything.
Smile when you have troubles,
For you've gained something.

Pray when you have troubles
There's a reason behind them.
Do it even if your woes doubles,
Blessed are those who use them.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
8/6/2018

Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered the blessing of being born into poverty: My life, my struggle, my hustle, my journey is the bedrock of my strength.My story is the source of my inspiration and the caveat of my staying power.

Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered the mysterious ways in which God's gift to every man is dissimilated.Look at the athletic abilities of Lebron James when he plays basketball, see the prophetic gift of Bishop T D Jakes when he preaches.Look at the artistic brilliance of the jazziest, George Benson when he sings and plays guitar.And, no one alive will ever forget the musical genius of Michael Jackson and the poetic prowess of Maya Angelou.

Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered how God uses the foolishness of man to confirm his greatness.Every time I write a masterpiece, somebody somewhere reads it and goes" ***, Wow, this is really good!"

Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered that God is the greatest of all poets.From Genesis to Revelation, His words
Compiled into sixty-six meticulously written books remains the bestseller of all times.

Ever since I discovered poetry
I discovered that God is love and love is blind and blindness is nothing because God blessed the blind with hidden eyes in the mind.
I discovered God gave the blind something because of the legendary Steven Wonder and the little blind Liberian boy, Samy Wefur who now sings with the Nigerian star,Flavour.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
       06/07/2018

What's greater than spoken words,
Yet poets flip them seamlessly?
What's Sharper than a Samurai's swords,
Yet great warriors used them bravely?
What's better than a woman's tender body,
Yet some men abuse them repeatedly?
What's purest than the tears she sheds
Yet it flows when she sobs quietly?

What's better than a mother's love
Yet she gives it so unconditionally?
What's more precious than a human life,
Yet many men live ever so carelessly?
What's more disappointing than Donald Trump,
Yet some Americans love him dearly?
Who came up with the idea of slavery,
Yet the world refuses to apologize openly?
Who invented the deadly assault rifles,
That people ****** innocent kids with remorselessly?

Who actually built the pyramids
That to this day, stands rigidly?
What's the function of the U.N,
Why are nations warring perpetually?
Why is it so impossible for mankind
To have peace, live and love harmoniously?
Where's justice for my queen mother
And the innocent people killed senselessly?
Why don't we appreciate the creation of this beautiful earth,
Why do we continue to destroy and mismanage it simultaneously?

Who came up with the concept of religion,
How did God Almighty become
A part of the prosperity Gospel industry?
Why do Rastafarians
Call him Jah,
Who are the true Christians,
Why do Muslims call him Allah?
Who named the Lord Jesus,
And why do priests proclaim
Peace unto us?
Who are Hindus,
What is the story about krishna?
Why do others worship
Budha?
Why do witch doctors
call him Babba,
Why do others believe
In no God,
But pray to the universe?
Why don"t they honor his word,
Yet from the bible quote a verse,
And when things falls apart,
They cry in his name?
What really is that?
Oh what a contradiction
And a big shame!


IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/6/2018

My mind is on a poetic fire
And right here, right now,
I'll write until Shakespeare
Becomes rain and falls down.

My hands are on a mission
And I won't quit right now.
For I'll write without season
Until I become very known.

My imagination right now,
Is already at full throttle.
I'm afraid it might just blow
Up like a very hot oil bottle.

My mind and every fiber
In my oddly wired brain,
Is set on a hot poetic fire,
I'll gamble with words till I win.

IBPoetry©
4/17/2018

Blessed is he who writes
For his words transcends
Time, space and moments,
Far beyond the constellation.
Blessed is he who recites
Spoken word and poetry,
For his craft circumvents
The core of our existence
Deep into our inner man.

Blessed is he who writes,
For his thoughts interacts
And deeply influences minds
That belongs to other people.
Blessed is he who bends letters
Into words and words into
Sensational and captivating
Stories of true love and courage.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©

If the eyes are indeed window
To the soul,right here ,right now,
I say no access granted.
For I too have patiently waited
With vigor and optimism,
To look through this prism.
Beyond this dark #WAYFARER
Into an unknown but bright future.
A future I've worked so hard for...
I have given too much for her,
Ever since the day of my youth...
A quest that took sweat and tooth.
Some sweat and blood,yet I hang on..
During gloomy days or pain I moan..
At night I gaze the constellations and pray
I do this from Monday to Sunday,
Each and every Morning and evening
Until thy kingdom come,I'll stop at nothing,
Until I join my ancestors in the great beyond...
Until I can no more see the reason to fight on,
Until my soul circumvent this temporal phase,
And soar to its final and eternal resting place.

#IvanBrooksPoetry
4/5/2018

Like everything else in this life,
There's a special time for everything.
There's time set aside to take a wife
Without which a man is nothing.

There also comes a time to struggle
Which is a difficult stage in a man's life.
That stage when you're zero to people,
When you lack bread to cut with a knife.

So everything has a time they say
I've never ever stressed for anything.
I know there will surely come a day
When Jah will provide me everything.

The best time I like it when I sit to write
It's the time I can express my honest thoughts,
Or use the pen to go off like a poetic dynamite
That's the time I'm able to close people's mouths.

#IvanBrooksPoetry ©️
4/4/2018

Yesterday is gone
But not without a fight
Hope she makes it home
On tomorrow 's flight.

Yesterday left us
Only with memories
Bittersweet like citrus,
Tomorrow's calories.

Yesterday is almost gone
My Sweet Lord Jesus
Today I'm not at all alone
For you blessed few of us.

Tomorrow was yesterday
And today will be tomorrow
I can't wait to see the day
When yesterday will bow.


IvanBrooksPoetry©
3/29/2018

Spring is here
The sun is here
Time for a break
For Christ's sake!

Spring is here
look over there
people having fun
naked in the sun.

Spring is here
Girls everywhere
Beautiful weather
I don't need a sweater.

Spring is here
Time to share
Beautiful pictures
Taken with statues.

Spring is here
Have no fear
Let out some steams
Rave in the sunbeams.

Spring is for buttocks and *******
But for us in our fifties,
It's simply for imagination
And good relaxation.

Spring is finally here
Best time of the year
To make yourself feel fine
Spring is always a fun time!

IB-Poetry©️
3/29/2018

Someday I'm going to wake up
From my old rocking chair,
Somewhere far beyond this shore
And begin writing a memoir on my laptop.
The title, though vague and mundane,
Will encapsulate the tales of my life's journey.

In it, I will say less about money
or the girls I once called honey.
But I will rather mention that one special lady;
Who stood by me and only called me baby.

I'm going to dedicate an entire chapter to my people,
I'm going to talk about their resilience to the struggle.
There will also be a chapter dedicated to love;
Love for mankind, my family and the man above.

I'm also going to make mention of all the things I have done.
Be it good or bad, I will write even if it takes the afternoon.
One by one I will write down everything I did wrong.
After that, I'll play me my favorite Bob Marly song,

That one that tells the story of slavery and redemption.
In that particular one, I will use a little procrastination...
And at the very end of that memoir, I will give thanks to God,
For grace upon my life, my kids, my hustle and for spoken word.

Someday I will wake up far beyond this shore,
and write the final chapter of my life's journey.
I will then reveal the last wish of my life before I die.
I swear it will be so funny, it'll make every reader laugh.

IB-Poetry ©️
3/25/2018

Every day I feel the flames burning
I, therefore, won't stop writing.
The closer and closer it comes,
The deeper and further my mind roams.

Every now and then I hear screams
Emitting deep from within my core.
I believe it's the soundtrack to my dreams,
The caveat that drives me to do more.

Every once in a while comes an inspiration
From whence I know not and I care not.
The poet in me sees this as a benediction
I, therefore won't sit to see this go to rot.

Every once in a lifetime comes a writer
Born blessed with an unorthodox style.
Therefore the poet in me says brother,
Writing is your life, go the extra mile.

#IvanBrooksPoetry ©️
   3/25/2018

I vividly remember back in the day
Before smart gadgets, when I was young.
Every night we waited in the moonlight to play
Life was pure like the playground song.

That was when the world was very young
and friendship was real and not digital.
When autotune wasn't part of a good song
and all photos were normal and typical.

That was when people followed you for real
not on Twitter and Instagram and snapchat.
That was when buttocks and ******* were still real
and real-life friends met for coffee and a real chat.

I clearly remember the big old telephones
When people didn't see the faces of people,
they talked to like we now do on the smartphones.
I missed the old days when sleep wasn't a struggle.

IB-Poetry©️
3/25/2018

Millions walked this Earth before I arrived
and millions more will come after I leave.
But when I leave this temporal phase of my life,
I wish to be known and be remembered.
Not as a Church or some golf club member,
but as a member of God's greatest family.
Someday when I sojourn to be with my ancestors,
It's my fervent hope to leave books but not an enemy.
You see, many left and will never be remembered,
Because they did nothing with the creative ideas
that once lingered in their bright and beautiful minds.
Many of them wrote, said or did absolutely nothing,
by which mankind and history will remember them.
Yet few are known by their words or deeds.
Good or bad, history will speak highly of them.
When I leave someday to join my ancestors,
I shall be remembered by unborn generations,
for expressing my thoughts and inspiring people.
Through my inspirational quotes, and through my facebook posts.
Some of which will be written on gravestones,
written in books to be read and quoted by people.
The most meaningful and significant ones,
will be engraved on the minds, hearts, and souls of people.
Forever for ages to come, forever I am going to be remembered!

IB-Poetry©️
3/23/2018

Be like water
be formless
Be like a lion
be fearless
Be like the universe
be limitless
Be like Bluetooth
be  wireless
Be mysterious
leave people clueless
Be like a guard dog
be restless
Be like a machine
be tireless
Be a true hustler
be relentless
Be a fantastic poet
leave your readers speechless.

IB-Poetry©️
3/23/2018

Let nothing affright thee
Nothing lasts forever.
Let nobody tell you what to be,
It's your life, you can become whatever.
Live your life.

Let no earthling suppress you.,
Nothing is greater than God.
Let nobody mess with you
Make sure yours is the final word.
Live your life.

Let no man tell you he's immortal
For we will all die someday.
Let no man treat you like a nonequal.
If he does, peacefully turn and walk away.
Live your life.

Let not your heart be troubled,
As the Lord said in the good book.
It doesn't matter if you're blind or crippled,
Be glad you're alive and not how you look.
Live your life.

IB-Poetry©️
3/17/2018

Never despair when things start to go wrong
and around you, all walls start crumbling
Praise God and start a brand new song
The old walls gave way to a new beginning.
Be strong!

Don't be heartbroken when people forsake you
for no just cause, leave like you mean nothing.
Praise God, for soon they will see you on Youtube,
On multiple channels shinning and doing your thing.
Be strong!


IB-Poetry©️
3/13/2018

Nothing a poet writes is a waste.
It doesn't matter how you see it,
twist it ...
judge it ...
interpret it...
categorize it...
or place it.
As long as you don't read it backward,
It's still somehow a write...
Even if it looks awkward.

IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018

My complex brain keeps me thinking deeply
For hours it keeps spitting **** perpetually.
I think outside the box and write always,
look at things in 3D and cross the streets sideways.

This is the universe at work in another way.
Maybe I'm being rewarded, if I may,
For the countless hours put into thinking
About a fraction of mankind's problems.
And the thoughts about seeking answers to questions,
That will someday bring a resolution to our problems,
For the universal betterment and the good of mankind.
Maybe I'm a product of some social and scientific
Or intellectual experiments or the combination of all three.

All that was yesterday, when I was something else
If I was ever made a saint then for my past good deeds,
I have no recollection of what transpired down those dark Corridors of the part of the multiverse I came from.
So, if I ever did some positive things in my past life,
Kudos to that mass or ball of energy I once was.

Today, maybe I'm just one idiot with a laptop
Who has time to write things some people may deem
obnoxious, senseless and otherwise incomprehensible?
Maybe I'm an outlet for deep thoughts
And a vessel of wisdom for some people.
Through perseverance and the little time, I have on hand,
I have helped save lotta folks some precious time
In coming to acknowledge the reality of our time.
Thus, making it easier for them to see,
That things are messed up and that despite this,
hope looms!

When will I really become known,
Is it when I write a book to call my own?
How can I solidify myself as a real poet,
What can I do to become a real laureate?
Am I just going to keep writing poetry
Because of my mastery of words and artistry?
Is that enough to usher me into the spotlight,
And make me win awards before hitting my twilight?

When will I consider myself a real writer
Is it when I have a New York Times bestseller?
I have kept my hands off the intellectual property
Of another poet even though we have no propinquity.
Even though I've followed these poetic etiquettes
It doesn't automatically place me amongst the elites.
So what do I do to progress beyond this rhyming phase,
To Whom do I turn to effectively plead my poetic case?

IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018

While the world sleeps,
and the night creeps,
I wake my body to prepare
as the moon prepares to fade.
I plan for the rest of the day.
I'm very orderly, if I may say...
which way to go,
what to do
who to talk to...
look at my time
read a line,
take a drink,
before I start to think.
I water my flowers,
plan my hours,
check my phone,
right before I leave home...
ready for a fresh day,
set to go all the way!

IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018

Today...
Invest wisely
move silently
observe keenly
speak respectfully
act accordingly
hustle aggressively
exercise regularly
seek continuously
ask politely  
eat properly
pray fervently
build your dream quietly
...tomorrow is soon here!

IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018

For about an entire week,
I experienced the writer's block.
All I did was pace and peek,
At the old broken wall clock.
I had the compulsion to write,
But I lacked the inspiration.
Though I had the burning desire,
I couldn't find the motivation.
The quest took me to the book,
And I found nothing there.
I tried a completely different look,
That resulted in nothing either.
Whatsoever I really did,
Produced nothing much
In spite of this, I didn't want to quit
So I tried a deeper search.
I searched within others
They had nothing either.
So I liaised with some brothers,
Some had nothing to share.
Then I tried my fellow writers,
They had everything over there
I tried to search beyond them,
And the question was where?
So I said to myself ****,
What about I stay right here!


IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018

Every one of us is worth something.
Even if you aren't part of those so-called celebrities,
our individual presence here is a special thing.
Be it to a special part of our society,
it's through service to our communities,
Love for each other and humanity,
sacrificial love and care for our individual families
That our true worths are calculated...
Not when praises towards us are superfluous
and for falsehood and vanity, we are celebrated,
But when our true worths are not based on anything facetious.


IB-Poetry©️
3/7/2018

Don't think nobody's interested in your life as it unfolds.
Truth is, it's the lowest depths you fall in that fascinates them.
Interested parties and haters hang around by the boatloads.
It's the wounds you sustained on the way down,
the maggots and the pains you go through to heal,
it's the struggle to bring yourself back that keeps them around
they want to come and watch as you struggle to your knees,
They watch you as you climb slowly and painfully back to life.
Watch to see if you're capable of rescuing yourself.
As always, your success is of least concern.
Human have a tendency to take pleasure in each other's struggles
I hope from this poetry that everyone will learn,
That behind all the facades and facetious bubbles
Exists the dark sides of all human beings.

IB-Poetry©️
3/7/2018

The more you work or harder you try
Some things just won't work
So don't sit and try to cry
Either you quit or put in more work.

The harder you try to look
Some things you just won't see
You can google or search a book
Some answers you just won't see.

The harder you care or love
Some people just won't care
You can clean or cook on the stove
That sentiment he or she won't share.

The harder you try for peace of mind
The more you will finally come to agree
That inner peace is not easy to find
It really doesn't exist in wealth or a degree.

IB-Poetry©️
3/7/2018